


carry the weight of me (in your heart)

by havisham



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Boromir Lives, F/M, Implied/Referenced Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-12 21:49:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5682034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havisham/pseuds/havisham
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Would it be enough to live on /</i><br/><i>If my love could keep you alive</i> </p><p>Boromir lives and everyone is relatively happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	carry the weight of me (in your heart)

It was late spring and so not the time for dark imaginings.

Boromir raised himself from bed, painfully, and listened to the wind outside his door. It carried with it the sounds of ordinary life -- the shouts of flower-sellers, selling their wares before the night’s festival, the stamping of horses’ hooves against the marble flagstones of the inner courtyard, and even snatches of Elvish singing, to honor Minas Tirith’s new queen. 

“Is it Elves who are singing or Men singing Elvish songs?” Boromir mused aloud, and Faramir, in the chair next to his bed, woke up with a sharp snort. Faramir worked too hard, Boromir knew, and it had not surprised him in the least when Faramir, meaning to sit beside him for a moment only (his words) had instead fallen instantly, deeply asleep.

Boromir could not help but laugh, though his brother gave him a stern look, which was wholly undermined by the half-smile that was always on his lips, whenever he looked upon Boromir now. 

“Hide that sour face, brother, lest your betrothed sees it and reconsiders which of Denethor’s sons she ought to wed.” 

“You have said more today than you have since you came to us,” Faramir said, getting up in his chair and stretching. Boromir looked away, ashamed by the sudden stab of jealousy he felt at seeing his brother stand, strong and proud. He could not do that now. 

The hands of the king were the hands of a healer, but even such hands as those could not heal all of his wounds, or unloose the arrows that had shattered his spine. At Amon Hen, Boromir had been so close to death that his companions, in their haste, had thought him so. It was only a stroke of fate that his boat had washed ashore near a field-hospital on the Anduin, or that splash of water that had roused him enough to moan aloud. All such improbable things to have happened! And yet, it was as Faramir said when he learned of it -- they were living in a time of such miracles. 

It was Faramir now who turned to look at him, and Boromir knew that his wise little brother knew far more of his thoughts that he should. He bent down now and placed a brief kiss on Boromir’s forehead. Boromir scowled and wiped it away, as if he was still a young boy (when it was his mother who kissed him) -- but he caught Faramir’s eye and they laughed, wordless but glad. 

The moment between them stretched out and deepened. There were so many things that they did not yet have the words to say -- but -- then there were footsteps outside and the moment vanished as if it never was.

Éowyn came in, flushed and windblown from the outside, followed by some Boromir’s bearers and the little palanquin that served as his mode of travel for now. Faramir darted off to her, like metal shaving to a magnet, but her attention was on Boromir. 

She greeted him kindly and Boromir took Éowyn’s fair, white hand in thanks. 

There were some who hid their wounds from the world, but it was not so with Éowyn. She showed her pain as plainly as she did her joy, and her courage sparked courage in others. 

“Will you come with us?” she asked, low. Boromir gritted his teeth and nodded.

He did not enjoy the trip out to the courtyard, and to the battlements. He thought he saw many eyes upon him, people who remembered the brash young man he had once been. But in truth, eyes were not on him, but on the balcony above them, where the king and the queen stood, garlanded with flowers. The herald gave the sign at midnight and the lanterns were lit. 

All was silent; soon summer would be here.

**Author's Note:**

> And then Faramir woke up.
> 
> (Sorry.)
> 
>  
> 
> Anyway -- thank you, Suzanne for beta-ing! All remaining mistakes & etc. 
> 
> Title and summary from Vienna Teng.


End file.
